The Ghosts of the Past
by qwerty-kitties
Summary: UNINTENTIONAL ONESHOT - When Big Bob loses control, Helga runs to Sammy.  And the librarian must muster up her courage to help her young friend. - Written about 5 years ago and never finished.  Enjoy what there is.


_Strangely enough, I started writing this about 5 years ago after HA popped back into my head for whatever reason. The title refers to a past incident in which Sammy "interfered" in a fight between her friend and her friend's boyfriend, which ended badly. This situation with the Pataki women brought that memory up and opened up a bunch of hurt Sammy would rather not face._

_But then I got busy or bored and never finished. But I liked how this came out._

_Enjoy!_

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The Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 1 Intervention

Samantha Walker jerked awake and squinted at the clock on the bedside table. 2:37 am. Who the hell could be at her door at 2:30 in the morning?

"This better be really frigging good," she croaked as she crawled out of bed. She automatically slipped on her glasses, and successfully shrugged into her robe on the third try. The pounding knock came again as she staggered downstairs, barely awake enough to work the tie on her robe.

"What the hell," she muttered and peeked through the little window beside the door. A yellowish glow from the nearest streetlight cast shadows across the front stoop as a small figure huddled there. Sammy grabbed the wooden baseball bat she kept behind the coat rack to the right of the door, her heart thumping madly in her chest. Her early morning visitor was about to get as rude a wake-up call as she had gotten just a few moments before.

Sammy threw the door open, flicked on the porch light, and raised the bat high over her head.

"Whoa! Hold it! Sammy, it's me!" Helga shouted, raising her arms in an involuntary act of surrender. Sam stopped, sleep finally retreating from her mind. For a moment, she simply stared at the shivering girl hunched in the doorway.

"Helga?" she asked, dropping the bat to her side. "What on earth are you doing here at this time of the night?" Helga shrugged, giving Sam a strained smile.

"Oh, you know," she said in a slightly shaky voice. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by." Sam cocked an eyebrow and brought the bat to rest on her shoulder. Her adrenaline rush was wearing off. She was feeling tired again and wasn't in the mood for the early morning antics of a nine-year-old.

"Helga, it's really late . . . or really early depending on how you wanna look at it. I'm not at my best when I'm shocked awake in the middle of the night by a loud pounding on my door." She leaned forward, coming nose to nose with the young blonde. "What are you doing here?"

"Bob kicked back a little too much 'happy juice' and decided to re-arrange the furniture," Helga said quietly after a moment's hesitation. "In pieces." Sam suddenly straightened, eyes wide. She stared over Helga's head, not seeing.

_Jerry's really lost it, Sammy, you have to help me!_

She dropped the bat.

_No, _she thought. _This is too familiar. _She shook her head slightly and looked down at the shivering girl on the stoop.

"Get in here. NOW."

Helga walked in quickly, thankful to be out of the chilly late night/early morning air. Sammy kicked the door closed behind them as she slipped out of her robe. She draped it over Helga's shoulders before going to her knees in front of her young friend. She hadn't noticed before that Helga was still in her pajamas.

"Are you all right?" she asked worriedly, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. "What about Miriam? Did he hurt anyone?"

"You should see the house, it's such a mess." It sounded like Helga was talking to herself. "All the pictures are smashed and the walls look like Swiss cheese!"

"Helga, did he hurt anyone?" The girl looked at her older friend with wide eyes. Eyes that didn't seem to really see her.

"He even went after Olga's trophies!" she cried. "They went flying every which way . . ."

"Helga!"

She stopped and looked at Sammy, her eyes clearing.

"Did he hurt anyone?" the redhead repeated, accentuating each word with a shake of Helga's shoulders.

"What? No, no," she replied, much to Sam's relief. "But he destroyed anything he could get his hands on. He threw his favorite chair against the wall!" A wave of confusion passed over Helga's face. "Miri—Mom tried to calm him down, but he was too mad."

_He's making such a mess, Sammy, he's just so mad!_

Sammy closed her eyes and shook her head sharply to push the memory away.

"When he started in on Olga's trophies, Mom told me to run, to get away." Tears formed in the frightened child's eyes. "This was the only place I could think of to go."

Sammy stared at the young blonde for a moment, then sighed, ran a hand through her hair and sat heavily on the couch. She sat thinking, head in her hands, fingertips massaging her temples.

_Option one, _her mind reasoned. _You take Helga upstairs, get her set up in the guest room and go back to bed. Option two, you tell the kid 'tuff luck' and send her on her way. Option three, you call the cops on the Beeper King and get his butt tossed in the pokey for this little outburst._

_Now, since we both know that option two is completely out of the question, that leaves one or three. Which will it be, Red?_

She looked up and discovered Helga sitting in a chair nearby, the bathrobe wrapped tightly about her. The blonde was watching Sammy, waiting for what was to come next.

"Helga," the redhead said softly. "We need to call the police." Her young friend was shaking her head violently.

"Are you nuts?" she cried, looking fearful. "If he's acting like this now, what do you think would happen if we showed up with a couple of cops? He'd totally lose it!"

A sudden flash of memory surfaced. A living room in shambles. Empty beer and vodka bottles. A crying friend. Blood. Sammy frowned and closed her eyes tightly as she forced the image away. When she opened them, Helga was looking at her strangely.

"Are you okay?" The redhead offered a strained smile.

_Option four, _her mind amended. _Go over there and get Miriam out._

_Oy._

"Just ghosts of the past coming back to haunt me, that's all." She stood and ran her fingers through her hair again. "But I'm really not comfortable leaving Miriam there with him." She sighed, and sounded even more tired than she looked. "I have to go back for her." Helga looked at her friend with wide, scared eyes.

"Back?" she almost whispered. "But, what if he's still at it? What if he starts something? What if . . . "

"What if he runs out of furniture and goes after your mother?" Sam asked quietly. Fear crept into the child's eyes. "Helga, believe me, I _really_ don't want to go, and if I had any other choice I wouldn't, but I just can't leave Miriam there. If he's still worked up, I'll handle it." She ran her fingers through her hair once more, uttering a heavy sigh. "I'll handle it."

"But . . ." Sammy shook her head.

"No buts, Helga," she said sternly. "You're probably right about the cops, so I won't call them, but I'm going back for your mother. I'll grab some things for you while I'm there." Helga looked at the floor as she thought briefly, then shook her head. A determined look spread across her young face.

"No, I'm coming." Sammy studied the child for a moment before sighing.

"Well, I guess I can't very well leave you here by yourself," she muttered. "But you're going to stay in the car. This is going to be a quick 'get-in-get-Miriam-get-out' maneuver. I don't want you anywhere inside that house. Now, give me a minute to change and we'll head out."

_I shouldn't be doing this, _the redhead thought a short time later, as they rode in silence to the Pataki home. _I should have just called the cops and let them handle this. What on earth makes me think that I can do anything useful in this situation? WHY am I going over there to 'save' a person I barely know from a drunk guy who's twice my size and taken up the sport of recliner tossing?_

_Because it's Helga, _her mind said simply. _You love her, and you want to help her whenever and however you can, even if that means you have to do something scary. _

_Besides, you've done it before._

Sammy frowned. She didn't like to think about that.

As they pulled up to the curb in front of the house, dread dropped into Sammy's belly like a heavy stone. Light spilled into the dark night from the front window and through the crack of the slightly ajar front door. She killed the engine.

"What set him off like this?" she asked the girl in the passenger seat. Helga shrugged.

"We don't know. He came home and wouldn't stop drinking. About two hours ago, he started yelling at Mom, which woke me up. Then he started destroying things."

_He's destroying everything, Sam, I need your help!_

Sammy leaned across her passenger and punched the door lock. She made sure both back doors were locked, then handed Helga her cell phone.

"Call 911 if we're not out in 15 minutes, or if you hear any shouting." Helga opened her mouth to say something, but Sam put a finger to the girl's lips before she could start. "Nuh uh, no arguments. You're staying here. Watch the house. I'll get your mother, grab some clothes for you, and be out as soon as possible." Sam gave Helga a quick kiss on the forehead before climbing out of the car. She pushed her own door lock, and leaned down to look at her young friend again. "I mean it. Stay here." With that, she slammed her door shut and slowly made her way to the front door of the Pataki home.

_This is stupid, this is suicide, this is by far one of the most moronic things I have done in recent memory. Helga is safe, that should be all I care about!_

The redhead walked slowly to the front window and peered inside. The living room was a war zone. Picture frames were smashed, with shattered glass all over the floor. Small piles of plaster dust lay on the floor below fist sized holes. The television was lying in the corner, its screen cracked. She caught slight movement from the corner of her eye, and gasped.

'Big Bob' Pataki was asleep on the couch.

_Well, there's one thing in my favor, thank God, _she thought as she moved to the front door. _With a little luck, I can get in, get Miriam, grab some stuff for Helga, and get out before he even wakes up._

Sammy carefully pushed the front door open and was greeted by loud rumbling snores. Not daring to press her luck any further, she only pushed the door open far enough for her to squeeze inside. She didn't want to come this far just to wake him with a squeaky door hinge, after all. She stood in the entryway for a second, waiting to see if Bob would stir. He didn't. Sammy discovered she was holding her breath only when she let it out in a relieved rush.

_Familiar, _Sammy thought as she tip-toed through the living room, surveying the destruction and keeping a watchful eye on the lump on the couch. _This is too damn familiar. I wish I were still home in bed._

"Miriam?" the redhead called in a whisper. "Miriam? Where are you?" She walked into the kitchen and nearly smacked her head off the kitchen counter when she stepped in a puddle of dishwashing liquid. She quickly recovered and faintly gave thanks that she hadn't cried out when she slipped.

The dining room and family room were equally trashed, but there was no sign of her young friend's mother.

Strangely comforted by the grating snore of the big man on the couch, Sammy crept upstairs. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, and her stomach had formed a tight knot. She glanced at Bob as she climbed.

_Why the hell does he look so much bigger all of a sudden?_

She discovered Miriam in what used to be Olga's room, sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. She was shaking slightly and staring at the floor with blank eyes.

_Déjà vu, _Sam thought absently.

"Mandy—I mean, Miriam," she called gently. "Are you okay?" The blonde woman slowly blinked and looked up at the redhead.

"Sa-Samantha?" she whispered, looking puzzled. Sam nodded, giving the older blonde a shaky smile. "What are you . . . did Helga . . ?"

"Not really a good time for twenty questions, Miriam," the redhead said quietly, as she gently helped the woman to her feet. "Helga came to me for help, so we came back to get you out." Miriam's eyes widened.

"You brought her back?" she whispered harshly. "Why would you—"

"She's in the car, Miriam," Sam said in a 'we-don't-have-time-for-this' tone. "Get some things together. You and Helga are going to stay with me for a while." Miriam looked confused for a moment.

"But, B . . ." Sam rolled her eyes and firmly grabbed the woman's arms.

"Do you want to take the chance of being the next hole in the wall?" she asked, giving the older blonde a stern shake. "We. Have. To. Get. Out. Of. Here. NOW."

Miriam blinked twice, understanding flooding her features. She nodded quickly and hurried to her room to pack a bag as Sam moved across the hall to pack for Helga. She had managed to find a bag, but the clothes were a little more elusive.

"Where the hell does this kid keep her frickin' socks?" she muttered angrily as she searched the third drawer.

"It's the next drawer down," a voice said behind her. Sammy gasped and whirled around quickly, knocking her elbow off the corner of the dresser in the process. She rubbed her injury absently as she glared at the young blonde before her.

"Ya know, I could have sworn I told you-ordered you, in fact-to stay in the car," the redhead growled through clenched teeth. Said blonde was walking forward, yanking the overnight bag from Sammy's hand.

"I can pack my own bag, thank you very much," she said in a slightly annoyed tone and proceeded to demonstrate. Sammy resisted the urge to throttle the kid. Barely.

"I want out of here in 2 minutes," she said instead. "Pack fast."

Worry had begun to gnaw at her belly. Something was wrong. Something had changed, and Sam was having a bear of a time pinpointing what it was. She had just stepped into the hallway when it suddenly occurred to her just what was different.

She couldn't hear Bob's snoring anymore.

Sam stood frozen, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Her heart skipped a beat and, for a split second, she could picture herself grabbing Helga, bolting down the stairs and jumping into her car. Piss on Miriam, she's the one who married the guy, after all. Let her stay here and deal with him.

_Please help me, Sammy! You've gotta help me!_

Helga appeared next to the redhead with a packed bag and fearful eyes. They could hear the big man shuffling around the rubble downstairs. With an almost physical jerk, Sammy pulled herself back from the edge of panic and shook her head sharply. Like it or not, she had to see this through. As much as she wanted to run, she couldn't leave Miriam. After a quick motion to Helga (_"Stay here!"_), the librarian moved as quickly and quietly as she could down the hall to the master bedroom.

"Miriam!" she whispered harshly. "Hurry up! He's coming!"

The blonde frantically finished packing her bag as Sam heard Bob rummage around in the kitchen. Miriam joined her in the doorway, and the two hoped to take advantage of his case of the munchies. They hurriedly collected Helga and, after Miriam gave the girl a surprised and worried look, made for the staircase. Now all they had to do was shoot down the stairs, out the front door and into Sammy's car. No problem.

Problem.

They were halfway to freedom when Bob walked back into the living room. He stopped in the middle of the room and stood there, hands on his hips, seemingly surveying the damage. He hadn't seen them yet.

At the sight of the big man, the three had stopped in mid-step. They were frozen, hoping beyond all reason that he would finish his exam and move on to another part of the house. Sammy had hold of the back of Helga's pajama top, keeping the girl from falling forward.

They had no idea how long they stood like that, completely motionless, as they watched Big Bob's movements with wide eyes. At last the man seemed to be satisfied with what he saw, because he turned and began walking. Toward the staircase.

_Maybe he'll walk by, _Sammy thought frantically. _Maybe he'll go back in the hallway and head toward the kitchen. Maybe he'll—_

He stopped at the base of the staircase, hand on the railing, one foot on the bottom step.

"Huh?" Bob barked when he finally looked up. "What the hell are YOU doing here, Red?"

"Just picking up a few things, that's all," she answered politely, and was surprised when her voice remained steady. She took Miriam and Helga by the hand and pulled them close to the wall. If she was lucky, and if Bob was still buzzed, he might walk right by without giving them much thought. He was coming up the stairs, and Sammy silently cursed herself for not thinking to bring her bat along.

"Yeah, well shove over sister," Bob said as he pushed past. "I need to get some sleep."

"Of course," Sam agreed amiably, as the three girls flattened themselves as much as humanly possible against the wall. "You go and get some much needed rest. We'll be sure to stay out of your hair." The front door was in sight. They just might make it.

Suddenly, Bob stopped. He turned and looked down. He saw Miriam's bag. And Helga's bag. He frowned at his wife.

"Where do you think you're going, Miriam?" he demanded. Sam quickly squeezed past Miriam, and now she stood between the woman and the big man. She faintly wondered when she had acquired this apparent death wish.

"She and Helga are going to be staying at my house for a while," Sam said in the same too-cheery tone. "You need some well deserved rest, and this way you'll have lots of peace and quiet."

"WHAT?" Big Bob bellowed angrily. "Just what the hell is going on around here?" He punctuated his question by bringing his left arm up and punching his big fist through the plaster wall 4 inches from Sammy's head. All three girls gave a scream, with Miriam grabbing Helga and pushing the girl behind her.

For a moment, no one moved. Bob's fist was still in the wall, Sammy was looking pale and on the verge of fainting, and Miriam had Helga protectively tucked behind her. The big man looked from one fearful face to another and jerked as if woken from a light sleep. His face changed, and in a span of seconds, rage was replaced with confusion, then shock, then horror. He pulled his hand from the wall and looked at his family with large, helpless eyes.

"Miriam . . ." he started, but could go no further. What could he say?

Sammy, though light-headed from the sudden terror of seeing 'Big Bob' Pataki's fist coming toward her, didn't miss the mass of emotions that played themselves across his face. She suddenly realized she almost felt sorry for the man. He seemed to have realized what he had done tonight. And he felt true terror for what he could have done.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she reached a very shaky hand toward the man's shoulder.

"It—it's okay, Bob," she heard herself saying. Her voice was not so steady now. "Everything's going to be okay. No one was hurt. Why don't you head upstairs and get some sleep, okay?"

For a moment, he stared at her, much in the same way Helga had earlier. His eyes were blank, save for the hint of sorrow deep within them. Then he blinked and seemed to shrink before her eyes.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Sleep. That sounds pretty good right now." He turned and allowed Sammy to walk him to the bedroom, her still shaky hand on his shoulder.

"I really didn't . . . I mean, I never . . ." the Beeper King mumbled as he flopped onto the bed. Sammy nodded, arranging the room so he wouldn't kill himself on the way to the bathroom later.

"I know, Bob. I know. Just get some rest, okay?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than loud snoring filled the room. She stood in the doorway for a minute, watching him. Thinking. Remembering.

_NOOO! Jerry, wake up sweetie! Please wake up! This is all YOUR fault, Sam! This wouldn't have happened if you-_

She forced her mind closed as she re-joined the two blondes downstairs.

"Is he going to be okay?" Miriam asked, the worry evident in her voice.

"He'll be fine," the redhead told Miriam, who looked relieved. "He's probably going to be hungover for at least a couple of days thanks to this bender, though." Helga scoffed.

"Well, serves him right for acting like such a loon."

"Sammy, are you okay?" Miriam asked, sounding just as worried. Before Sam could open her mouth to answer, Helga uttered a short laugh.

"Mom, it's SAMMY," she said in a 'don't-be-ridiculous' voice. "Of course she's okay!"

The redhead looked at the little blonde for a moment. Helga, the little girl who never got enough attention at home, but drowned in it at Sam's house. The little girl who counted on Sam to help her solve her tough problems and be there when she needed a shoulder to cry on or a pair of arms to comfort her. The little girl who was standing with her own arms crossed and looking at Sammy with a slight smile and an expression that seemed to say, _Can you believe she asked you that?_

_It's funny how strong and brave I can be for Helga and how utterly weak and cowardly I am with myself, _Sammy thought with a hint of disgust. She offered her young friend a smile she hoped looked real.

"Yeah, well, let's just get out of here," she suggested, sounding tired. "It's really late and we all need some rest."

Miriam stood looking at Sammy for a moment before nodding and following Helga out to the car. The young girl had already unlocked the doors, jumped in and was belting herself into the passenger seat before the two older women even walked out of the house. Sammy turned off the lights and pulled the door closed behind her as Miriam climbed into the backseat.

"Let's get out of here," the redhead muttered as she slid into the driver's seat. She was tired. Physically, mentally and emotionally. And she had too many memories running around her head for her liking.

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_I actually had about 3 paragraphs started in the next chapter but could never fully wrap my brain around what to do next. So it never went anywhere. Poo._

_Thanks for reading!_


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